Protection
by Nightdew
Summary: When Miaka goes missing in the palace, Hotohori feels it is his responsibility to find her.  But how much responsibility can one man take on himself?  Based on Episodes 1 to 5 of the manga.
1. Chapter 1

This was his fault. He had caused this. Miaka… her arm crushed and bleeding, the light and innocence gone from her lovely eyes. The sight of it had torn his heart out. Suzaku forgive him, he should never have let her out of his sight. What had he been thinking to let her go with only two? Celestial Warriors the others might be, but he was the one ultimately responsible. He alone was triply bound to protect her, as a Constellation of Suzaku, as Emperor of Hong-Nan, and because… because he…

He dashed away a tear. No. He would not continue to torture himself in this way. Let the blame rest with the one truly responsible. Tamahome. This he could scarcely believe. This brought knots to his stomach and blood throbbing to his temples. Her prime protector. Bringing a _weapon _down upon the one he had sworn to love. Even at this distance, Hotohori could scarcely keep his hand from his sword hilt. He ought to have cut the boy's throat while he had the chance. Diedu or no, such behaviour was unforgivable. Tamahome had allowed himself to be tempted, to be corrupted. How could such a thing have happened? Miaka should have been Tamahome's every thought. Hotohori sighed. Was not this the way it was with him? Ever since the Priestess of Suzaku had appeared, had not his every breath been for her? All he longed to do now was to take her in his arms and kiss away her hurts. And the fact that he could not – that she had broken from him and run – whose fault could that be but his?

The golden detail on the chamber wall blurred out of focus and back in again. Now he was back where he had begun, and this headache was enough to make him sick. Miaka. War. The future. How was he to proceed with only six Constellations? He had to stop worrying and think. He had to plan for the sake of his country. Miaka. The look on her face. Did she blame him? Where on earth was she?

"Your Majesty." They were at the door again: the inescapable servants, trays in hand, heads bent down to the ground to avoid the radiance of the Imperial face. Yes, well. Perhaps certain court conventions were entirely justified. The foremost tray was almost touching his robes. "Your Majesty has not yet eaten."

"We are…" Was that feeble-sounding voice really his? He cleared his throat and tried again. "We are not to be disturbed. Our instructions were quite plain. Has the Priestess of Suzaku been located?"

"Your Majesty will please try this delicacy." If their heads got any lower, they would sink into the foundations.

"We are not disposed to eat at this time." Could he not be left alone for two minutes together? The scent of plum and oyster was turning his stomach. He pinched his upper lip and took a deep breath. Control. Control. Lose that and you lost any semblance of authority.

"Your Majesty is unwell? Your royal physician…"

"No." Why did they not dim these lamps? His head was swimming. "The physicians are occupied with Master Tasuki. And Master Mitsukake will need his strength." Suzaku help him, it should be Miaka they were tending. She was in no state, no state at all. Could he possibly have offended her? He would never willingly cause her a moment's sadness.

"Has the Priestess…?" He was wasting his time. These people knew food, bowing and not much else. Hotohori bade a silent farewell to his precious moments of solitude.

"Bring the Celestial Warriors to me."


	2. Chapter 2

Four. Of the seven Constellations of Suzaku, there were only four available to find Miaka, and considering that he was one of their number, Hotohori did not find that entirely comforting. After all, Chiriko was barely more than a child, and despite the monk's obvious skills, he couldn't help but be slightly unnerved by Chichiri. There was something about having seen a distortion of your own person in someone else's body that was bound to make you uneasy. The insulting tendency towards uglification, for a start.

He hated to admit it, but Tamahome had been the one he had truly been able to rely upon. The one he had been able to trust. Had been. Past tense. Now… No, he must not get into that train of thought again; he felt as if there were skewers behind his eyes already. He was sure there were some sorts of lights dancing just a few feet beyond him. And why did Nuriko keep looking at him like that? Anyone would think he was the one who needed protecting.

"This situation is distressing to say the least." He knew he was pacing but he couldn't help it. "I must know where Miaka is. And I must be informed immediately she is found." Why weren't they answering him? "Nuriko? Chichiri?"

"The palace precinct has already been searched. No da."

"And Miaka was kind of upset. Perhaps she just wanted…"

Despite his headache, Hotohori could still produce an icy stare.

"Gone. We're outta here." Chichiri grabbed Chiriko's hand before the boy had a chance to speak. The screen slid shut behind them. Hotohori looked up. Oh no. Please let him not be left in the room with Nuriko.

"Your Majesty…" The warrior was at his shoulder.

"Nuriko, I suggest very strongly that you listen to your Emperor's words."

"I just want to help. Your Majesty looks so…"

"What?!"

"Beautiful?" Nuriko suggested.

"Nuriko." Hotohori let out a sigh. "Your flattery, despite its truth, is inappropriate. Say what you have to say and be quick."

"Your-Majesty-looks-pale-and-unwell-and –I-think-you-ought-to-rest-and-let-us-deal-with-Miaka-this-time."

"No." The decorated panels swam around for a few minutes and then returned to their places. "I have said before, there is no need to be concerned about me. Miaka is my responsibility now. I will protect her."

"Your Majesty… Hotohori…" Surely Nuriko was not about to touch the Imperial cheek? Such an act was inconceivable.

"Don't," he flinched, "touch me." Great; now the hermaphrodite was crying. "I appreciate your concern, but my only wish at present is to see Miaka safe and well." As well as can be, he thought. As for what came next, he had no idea. If only he could make all this better for her. Why did she have to go and run from him?

"Nuriko." He chose his tone carefully. "Can you… can you think of anything we may have done or said to offend Miaka?"

"I don't think it's about you, Your Majesty." Nuriko's eyes were shining with tears. "Nothing Your Majesty said or did could ever offend."

Perhaps.


	3. Chapter 3

The moon had risen already. From the privacy of the inner courtyard, Hotohori could see the jewelled glint of his own constellation in the clear sky, along with those of the other warriors. Was it his own imagination, or had Tamahome grown a little darker since the last time he had stood here? How could Tamahome dare to hurt Miaka like that? Was there no one who could be trusted? He should have searched the palace himself, Emperor or not. Or was it only from him that Miaka wished to remain unseen? Perhaps once betrayed she had turned her back on him too. He had thought he could make her love him once; it was a fool's notion. He ought never to have kissed her at Ligé San. That was a mistake. Yet how could he not have done? He would have to have been a man of stone to have her fall into his arms like that and do nothing. Not when he could almost taste her sadness. Not when he had been longing for her since the moment he set eyes on her.

She must be found soon. He could not rest until he knew where she was. And he could not let them see just how sick he felt. The throbbing in his head was incessant now; anything stronger than starlight brought on excruciating pains. It was getting so hard to concentrate. Hotohori wondered with a grim smile how he had occupied his mind before Miaka. Where was she? If she was not in the palace precinct then she must have gone beyond. Why had no one thought of this before? In the state she was in, it was unthinkable. Clearly, he was surrounded by incompetents. He rang a bell. The shrill sound jarred every bone in his body.

"Saddle our horse."

"At this hour, Your Majesty?" The manservant's voice wavered.

"At any hour your Emperor chooses."

More interminable bowing. "I trust Your Majesty does not ride alone. Your advisors may question the wisdom…"

There must have been something about the way he drew in breath that served to silence the quibbling retainer.

"Your Majesty's every wish is as the wish of heaven itself." Was this amount of grovelling strictly necessary? "I shall inform the royal stables." The servant retreated backward along the colonnade, so as not to turn his back on the Imperial presence. As he went, Hotohori was not entirely sure he had not muttered something else under his breath. Something about Celestial Warriors?

He should have called the servant back. Impudence in the presence of the Emperor was, after all, a capital offence. But his mind could not rest for long on any other subject. He touched the stain in the palm of his hand left by her blood.

"Miaka…"


	4. Chapter 4

The lamplight in the outer palace was unbearable. His stomach heaved and he could feel cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. It was unimportant. Finding Miaka was all that mattered. He would tell her he was sorry that he had ever pressed his attentions on her. He would school his eyes to conceal the fact that right now he would willingly run Tamahome through. He would be anything she wanted him to be. And then… he didn't really have a plan for the next part, but he would personally ensure her protection. For Miaka, for all his people. Just as soon…

"Hey, where d'you think you're goin' without us? Your Majesty, I mean."

Tasuki. Standing. But that must mean Mitsukake had already used his powers. What about Miaka's injuries? A vision of her bleeding to death on the streets of Rong-Yang seared across his mind. He drew himself to his full six feet, ignoring the apparent dancing of white lights around his head.

"Tasuki, step out of our way this instant. Miaka could be in danger."

"So yer don't trust us all to do our job no more. Is that it?"

"Tasuki, don't you ever speak to His Majesty like that!"

Nuriko? How many more people intended to waylay him?

"Hey, you were the one that suggested this." By the powers, Tasuki's voice went right through him.

"Out of concern for His Majesty. Not to insult him. Are you completely stupid or something?"

Could they not keep their voices down? Hotohori's hand began to tighten around his sword hilt.

"Your Majesty!" Oh, no. Not Chichiri and Chiriko as well.

"Hey, where've you guys been? Where's Mitsukake?"

"I thought he was with you. No da."

"Did…did anyone find Miaka?"

"I thought that's what we were doing now."

Too. Much. Noise. The lamps were throbbing alternately white and red. Nausea was rising to the back of his throat.

"Silence!!"

There was a second of complete darkness and then a thousand swords instantly sliced into his skull. Hotohori doubled over as several hands grabbed him by the wrist. He made no attempt to shake them off; it took all the discipline he had to keep himself from retching. The palace floor suddenly seemed very welcome, if only it would stop swaying like that.

"Your Majesty…"

"I'm fine." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Now let me pass; we have wasted enough time."

"No!" Several voices together.

Another lurch of nausea. He eased himself to the floor and put his back against the wall. "We should not need to remind you to whom you are speaking."

"But… I mean, we are all fellow warriors now, aren't we?" That was Chiriko. "Doesn't that mean that we do things together? I just thought that maybe," the poor lad sounded terrified, "maybe that's why Suzaku chose us. So we could each use our different gifts and, you know, help each other."

"And not take all the responsibility on ourselves," Chichiri added.

The reply Hotohori wanted to make to that couldn't quite force its way past his exhaustion.

"Please, Your Majesty." Nuriko sounded almost choked. "Trust us. We will find Miaka and keep her safe."

"Yeah, an' then we'll pay back the bas- "

"No, Tasuki." Hotohori held up his hand. "Chiriko is right. We are all fellow warriors, Tamahome included. We must help him to come back. We must help each other."

"Does that mean you'll leave this to us?"

He passed a weary hand over his eyes. Would this throbbing never cease? All he wanted was to tell Miaka everything would be all right. Was that too much to ask?

"Very well," he heard himself say. It felt like an utter defeat but he was too tired to argue any more. Already the buzz of voices had begun again: "You go that way, I'll go this way." "Yeah, and find Mitsukake too. What's happened to him?" The pillars began to tilt.

"Your Majesty. I think I can help you now, if you will let me."

Chiriko was kneeling at his feet. And in his hand he was holding…

"You will feel much better, I promise."

Not the flute. Anything but the flute.

Chiriko began to play.


	5. Chapter 5

Had he been sleeping? He wasn't sure, but for some reason his eyes were closed. With a feeling of trepidation, Hotohori opened them and looked around. Thank Suzaku. No more skewers or dancing lights. It seemed that Chiriko had kept his word. Only Chiriko was no longer there. There was no one in the corridor but him. Hotohori sighed. So this was it, then. The other warriors had taken over, and the only honourable thing left to do was to retire for the night and trust them to accomplish their task. Let them bring back Miaka and heal her. Let him take the position he always took. Waiting. Detached.

He sighed again. Doubtless Nuriko had been right in the first place. This wasn't about him. It was about Tamahome. Wasn't it always about Tamahome? Hotohori couldn't even come first when it came to offending her. She had probably barely noticed him. She had simply run and wouldn't care which one of them found her. All his concern meant nothing to her at all.

The floor was no longer swaying, but Hotohori found himself wearier than ever as he made his way back across the lamplit courtyards and through the maze of gold-leafed pillars and panels. A scent of incense drifted on the night breeze. He waved away the various contingents of servants who seemed to appear from all points of the compass like armies of ants. He would pray for Miaka before he slept. It was the only option left to him. He opened the door into his private apartments.

"So good to see you, Your Majesty. I will take my leave now."

Mitsukake? Hotohori's surprise was quickly replaced by concern; he couldn't remember when he had last seen a person looking so pale and exhausted. "You were waiting for me? Is there something we can do for you?"

The doctor shook his head. "Thank you, but no. Now that Your Majesty has arrived, I must go and tell the others that Miaka is found."

His heart seemed to stop. "Safe?"

"Very."

Silent prayers of gratitude welled up inside him.

"And healed."

A modest smile came to Mitsukake's face. Surely not, Hotohori thought. Not Tasuki and Miaka too. No wonder the poor man looked so drained. He felt humbled in the face of such selflessness.

"You should not…" He almost smiled to hear himself. "You should not take so much upon yourself.

"Do not trouble yourself about me, Your Majesty." Mitsukake shrugged.

But he would. He would make sure from now on that his care extended not only to the Priestess of Suzaku but to the Constellations as well. If they could not support one another, then surely they did not deserve to have her. And, Suzaku be praised, they did have her, safe and protected again. Only…

"Where is she?" He had to ask. Just for peace of mind, just so he could sleep. He would not ask for anything more.

Mitsukake smiled again. "It seems she ran to the safest place she knew. The place where she would be certain of the ultimate protection."

"And that was…?"

The doctor drew back the curtain. Hotohori drew in his breath. Miaka. Sleeping curled up like a small child, fist at her mouth, hair tangled over the pillow. His pillow. His bed. And a couple of empty rice bowls on the floor beside it. How typical! Grateful tears started to well in his eyes. She had not turned her back on him after all. In her greatest need for comfort, she had come to his apartments. To his protection. Silently, he swore to be always worthy of such trust.

He turned back to Mitsukake, but the doctor was already walking away. With the greatest care, Hotohori eased himself onto the bed and leaned over her, hearing her measured breathing, making sure that not even a lock of his hair fell across her face.

"You'll always be safe with me," he whispered. "Sleep peacefully, dear one."

She hadn't stirred. Hardly daring to breathe, he leaned a little closer and kissed her, with the lightest kisses he could possibly manage. Then he edged his way to standing and tucked the quilts and silken sheets in around her. He paused on the threshold of the secondary chamber. Let them both sleep soundly tonight. Tomorrow it would begin again, and the situation they would face on waking would be anything but easy. But at least neither of them would have to face it alone.

End.


End file.
